


Hey SourWolf

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Adara Birthday Celebration [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Correspondence, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mates, Post-it Notes, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16959570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Derek had honestly expected the post-its to stop once Stiles had moved in, but they didn’t. If Stiles woke up first, Derek got little post-its all over the place. When Derek woke up first, he made breakfast because the notes thing was Stiles’ thing and he didn’t want to encroach on that. He’d asked once if Stiles wanted him to do it, but he’d insisted he was just happy as long as Derek was, so Derek decided breakfast was more his speed. He made amazing French toast, or so said Stiles. It worked for them.Every morning, for two years, if Derek woke up second, he always knew he could expect little post-its from Stiles, even if sometimes they were passive aggressive, at least he had them, and they werehis.And today was absolutely no different.





	Hey SourWolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Adara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adara/pseuds/adara)!!!
> 
> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

The first time Stiles had ever done it, Derek honestly wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t exactly known what was going on, but he hadn’t been surprised in the slightest.

It had been back before they were together. When they were still teetering in that area where they were close friends, and could potentially be more if only one of them was brave enough to take that leap. That it was Stiles shouldn’t have surprised anyone, least of all Derek, but it somehow still did.

Derek had been injured the night before, and Stiles had been the one to help him home. He’d gotten him into bed, made sure he was okay, and had left at some point after Derek had fallen asleep. When he’d woken up, the loft was empty, and he’d rolled over to grab his phone and frowned when he saw a post-it stuck to the top.

_‘Hey SourWolf, text me when you’re up.’_

Why Stiles hadn’t just texted that request, Derek didn’t know, but he’d complied and texted to let him know he was up and alive. He’d climbed out of bed, and had made it downstairs, only to pause because there was a large glass of water on the table with another post-it.

_‘Blood loss causes dehydration, so I expect this glass empty by the time I get here.’_

Derek had just rolled his eyes, but complied anyway, drinking down the entire glass. He’d headed for the kitchen, and had found various other little notes here and there, some related to what he should do to re-energize after his injury, and other just warnings about things.

_‘You’re out of milk, I’ll bring some over when I come by.’_   
_‘You should probably toss out the coffee you have, it’s expired and tastes like mud.’_   
_‘Eat a banana, it’ll help get your potassium back up.’_

Just weird little things that were somehow thoughtful and also incredibly weird. Derek didn’t mind, though. He liked that Stiles had been leaving notes all around the loft for him to find, and thought it was kind of nice Stiles was making sure he was taking care of himself.

He hadn’t expected it to ever happen again, figuring it was just that one time because he’d been injured and Stiles had to go home so he wasn’t dead on his feet for school. But another day, when Stiles had been over for research, they’d passed out together on the couch and Derek had woken up to more post-its around his apartment.

_‘Hey SourWolf, I got you coffee, it’s in the microwave.’_   
_‘I think I figured out how to get rid of the Pixies, text me later.’_   
_‘You need more laundry detergent, don’t ask how I know.’_

Derek hadn’t thought much about the notes when he got them, aside from a passing thought about how nice it was to have them. He didn’t expect them, but after a few more times of randomly waking up after a night with Stiles in his apartment, he started looking forward to them.

It probably explained the brief stab of abandonment the one morning he’d woken up to no notes. He’d tried not to be upset about it, because he wasn’t owed anything, but it had been really nice while it lasted. He’d gone downstairs to grab breakfast and was halfway across the loft when the large door had slid open.

Stiles had paused in the doorway, holding a plastic bag, and had blurted out, “Shit, I was hoping you’d still be sleeping!”

That was when Derek had realized he’d run out of post-its, and had legitimately left the loft to go buy some, come back, write him notes, and then leave. Evidently, Derek being awake had thrown a wrench in his plans and now he probably wasn’t going to do it.

So, Derek had hesitated, then said, “I was just checking something. I wasn’t up for the day.” Then he’d turned to head back upstairs.

He could tell, even without being a Werewolf, that Stiles had been delighted. Because Derek had admitted without _actually_  admitting that he really liked the little notes he’d been getting.

That this was how Stiles had asked him out was only logical. It had been a dreary Tuesday morning, and Derek knew Stiles had afternoon classes on Tuesday. He’d woken up and grabbed his phone, a post-it stuck to it that just said “Hey SourWolf” and nothing further.

While unusual, Derek hadn’t thought much of it until he’d reached the stairs, where another post-it just said “will.” He’d followed the little yellow notes all the way into the kitchen, the full “will you go out with me?” spelled out one word per post-it. There was another set of them in the kitchen, all one on top of the other.

_‘Like, on a date.’_   
_‘It’s cool if not.’_   
_‘We can still hang and be friends.’_   
_‘But I really like you and your grumpy face.’_   
_‘And it’d be pretty great to kiss said grumpy face.’_   
_‘You know, if you want.’_   
_‘No pressure.’_

Derek had spent almost ten minutes hunting down where Stiles had hidden the post-its, but he’d eventually found them and written one word before sticking it to the outside of the loft door, just so that Stiles would see it right away and hopefully not have a panic attack while over-thinking things outside the door.

_‘Yes.’_

When Stiles had shown up later, he’d walked in and kissed Derek’s grumpy face without hesitation, and things had kind of just... fallen into place from there. Stiles had moved in two months later, and while they fought and drove each other crazy, it was something they were both used to. It was just different because they both lived there together so when the fights got bad, Stiles didn’t just go home after. But they always went to bed together, always kissed and said goodnight, because their lives were too dangerous to risk not showing the other they loved them just because Stiles didn’t know how to load the dishwasher or Derek was allergic to folding laundry.

Derek had honestly expected the post-its to stop once Stiles had moved in, but they didn’t. If Stiles woke up first, Derek got little post-its all over the place. When Derek woke up first, he made breakfast because the notes thing was Stiles’ thing and he didn’t want to encroach on that. He’d asked once if Stiles wanted him to do it, but he’d insisted he was just happy as long as Derek was, so Derek decided breakfast was more his speed. He made amazing French toast, or so said Stiles. It worked for them.

Every morning, for two years, if Derek woke up second, he always knew he could expect little post-its from Stiles, even if sometimes they were passive aggressive, at least he had them, and they were _his_.

And today was absolutely no different.

* * *

Derek inhaled deeply, rolling over in bed and reaching one hand out for the warm body beside him. When he found nothing but cool sheets, he knew Stiles had already gotten up and started his day.

He still didn’t understand how someone who’d spent most of high school whining about waking up early had flipped a switch. Stiles always woke up before Derek. It was so, so rare that Derek woke up first. A true feat of how much he trusted Stiles, because Derek never woke up when he climbed out of bed.

Even before they’d moved in together, Stiles in his space didn’t bother him. Didn’t affect him. He felt safe with Stiles, and he liked to think Stiles felt safe with him, too. After all the shit they’d both been through, he felt like it was fairly likely Stiles trusted him as much as Derek trusted Stiles.

Rubbing his face with both hands, Derek exhaled slowly, trying to wake himself up, then threw the covers off himself, reaching for his phone and smiling without even looking at it because he could feel paper crinkling beneath his palm.

Derek climbed out of bed and moved lethargically towards the stairs, bringing his phone up so he could read the post-it.

_‘Hey SourWolf, went for a jog in the preserve. Join me?’_

He hoped Stiles hadn’t been gone for too long, or he’d be on his way back by now. Derek continued on his way down the stairs, moving to the kitchen to grab himself a coffee so he could wake up a little bit more. He found another post-it on the coffee machine and winced.

_‘Guess who’s out of coffee? Not me! Because I got the last of it, Mr. Allergic-to-buying-the-groceries.’_

Right. It was his turn to buy the groceries this month. Whoops.

He sent himself a text message reminder to get groceries while heading for the bathroom. Normally he’d shower before heading out, but if he was going to go jogging with Stiles, it’d probably be best he not bother until _after_  the jog. Not to mention he and Stiles could conserve water by showering together.

Getting his teeth brushed and doing his business, he headed back upstairs to change into a loose pair of shorts and a muscle shirt. He didn’t know if it was warm enough out for this clothing, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Being a Werewolf meant he wouldn’t be bothered, and if anyone asked, he could just say he’d been running for a while.

Exiting the apartment, he made it to the Camaro relatively quickly and saw another post-it on the door handle. He was honestly surprised this one hadn’t been blown away, but when he went to pull it off, he realized it was taped down. He’d have to reprimand Stiles for that later, tape did _not_  belong on his Camaro.

Climbing in while reading the note, he let out a small snort before putting it into the cup holder.

_‘Holy shit, did you actually drag your ass out of the apartment to go jogging with me?’_

Derek was going to have to remind Stiles that, of the two of them, _Stiles_  was the lazy one. The fact that he was out jogging was cause for concern, to be honest. Maybe he’d been taken over, his mind invaded by some kind of body-snatcher. An exercise-loving body-snatcher.

Derek was going to miss that little pudgy tummy Stiles had. Shame.

He drove towards the preserve while smiling to himself, imagining how offended Stiles would be if he knew Derek was thinking about his pudgy tummy. It was probably best for him to keep that thought to himself.

Parking in one of the designated spots a while later, Derek climbed out and nodded to other people heading into the preserve. He sampled the wind, chin tilted upwards while he stretched to make like he was just warming up and not attempting to find his boyfriend by scent.

When he finally caught an old scent, he headed in that direction and began to jog. He went off the path almost instantly, and would’ve been annoyed at Stiles for doing the same if he didn’t know Stiles knew these woods like the back of his hand. He and Derek went out in them all the time for various reasons, and Derek was fairly confident every member of the pack could find their way through it in the dark.

Including the sheriff, though maybe not _quite_  as easily as his son.

He set a steady pace while he ran, not feeling like he was in a hurry. He didn’t know if Stiles was even still there, as he might’ve doubled-back and left hours ago, but he was optimistic.

He smiled to himself when he saw something bright yellow stuck to a tree trunk, slowing to pull it off the bark and read it.

_‘Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?’_

Derek rolled his eyes, shoving it into his pocket, and continued on his way. Even without the post-it, he’d have known he was on the right track, given he could _smell_  Stiles, but he supposed it was just habit for Stiles by now. Derek wasn’t complaining, it was another post-it to add to his collection.

Not that he’d ever tell Stiles he kept all of them. Stiles could never know.

Ever.

He’d probably insist Derek was a hoarder, and to be fair, when it came to these precious little notes, he kind of was. He just didn’t want to miss out on anything he had with Stiles. Even a passive-aggressive note about him forgetting to buy groceries was still better than no note at all.

Derek came upon another post-it a few minutes later, pulling it off the tree and shaking his head.

_‘Not me! I eat big, bad wolves for breakfast ;)’_

What if a child had found this post-it instead of Derek? He was going to have to remind him that other people existed in the world. Not that Derek thought a child would understand, necessarily, but it was hardly the point.

He followed both Stiles’ scent as well as all his post-its, most of them just random comments, some actual compliments, and a few that had Derek laugh.

_‘Please, PLEASE tell me you’re not wearing those ratty blue shorts.’_   
_‘I swear to God, Derek, if you are, I’m burning them.’_   
_‘Even if you’re still wearing them when I light them on fire.’_

Derek was, in fact, wearing the ratty blue shorts Stiles wanted to set on fire. He just had to hope his presence was enough of a distraction for Stiles not to follow through. Though Derek wasn’t honestly worried. Derek and fire didn’t mix, and Stiles knew that.

If anything, he’d shove the shorts down the garbage disposal, which he _couldn’t_  do while Derek was wearing them.

Derek had just turned a corner to continue following the scent when it suddenly disappeared and he slowed in his jog before stopping. The only way the scent would’ve disappeared was if Stiles had backtracked, but even then, he’d have left a second scent unless he was specifically _trying_  to—

Letting out a loud ‘oof,’ Derek landed hard on his back, having turned to see if he’d missed something, only to be tackled around the middle. Stiles straddled his waist and thrust both hands in the air.

“Victory! The human takes down the monster! Humanity is saved!”

“Hardee har,” Derek said, rolling his eyes, hands moving up under Stiles’ shirt slightly so he could rub his hands along his back. “At least it means I don’t have to go grocery shopping, what with my being defeated and all.”

“You’re not _dead_ ,” Stiles insisted, smirking a little. “Though I’m sure I can find a way to send you to heaven.”

“What makes you think I’d want to go where you won’t follow?” Derek asked.

Stiles smacked him, but didn’t deny it. Derek was fairly certain if Hell _did_  exist and Stiles for some inexplicable reason ended up down there, he’d be sitting in the big chair within a month, two tops.

“By the way, I am burning these shorts,” Stiles informed him.

“I like these shorts.”

“They’re almost see-through, dude. I’m buying you new ones for Christmas.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Until then, guess I’ll have to keep wearing them.”

Stiles made an annoyed sound, rolling his eyes, and Derek laughed.

“Sorry about the coffee,” he said, still rubbing his hands along Stiles’ back.

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I got mine, so that’s the important thing. I’ll go keep you company at the store after, if you want. Call it a reward for finding me.”

“I can think of other things I’d rather have as a reward.”

Stiles let out a loud squawk when Derek flipped them over, shifting one hand out from under his shirt quickly to brace the back of his head so he didn’t bang it against the ground. He straddled _his_  waist, now, bearing down on him and smirking triumphantly.

“What was that about humanity being saved?” he teased, burying his face in Stiles’ neck and inhaling deeply. He smelled like them. Like a mix of Stiles’ usual scent, and Derek’s own on his skin. It made him shudder, the wolf in him happy it had found its mate, whether Derek and Stiles had ever openly talked about that or not.

Derek knew Stiles was it for him. And Stiles seemed pretty on board with belonging to Derek, so if this was how things were going to end for them, Derek was more than okay with it.

He bit lightly along Stiles’ throat, hearing him let out a sharp exhale. Derek smiled against his skin, worrying it between his teeth.

“That’s gonna bruise,” Stiles insisted, but the hitch in his breath and quickening heartbeat made it very clear he wasn’t actually complaining.

“Good, then everyone will know you’re mine,” Derek said, having released the skin between his teeth and biting his way along Stiles’ jaw.

“Sap.”

“You love it.” Derek pulled back slightly and kissed Stiles softly. He started to straighten so he could get to his feet and help Stiles up, but jerked his head back, startled, when Stiles slapped his forehead. It wasn’t hard enough for it to hurt, it had just been a bit of a shock. And he could feel something adhered to his skin, making him let out a small huff of laughter.

“I can’t read that,” he informed him.

“I suppose not.” Stiles wrapped both arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him down so their lips brushed together when he spoke. His heart rate had increased, beating faster in his chest. “Want me to read it to you?”

“Sure.”

“Hey SourWolf,” Stiles whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Derek kissed him again. “Now what does it _actually_  say?”

“Stop with the chemosignals,” Stiles insisted, though Derek didn’t correct him. Stiles let out a small sigh, pulled Derek down so his face was buried in his neck again, but before he spoke, Derek just smiled into his skin and hugged him tighter, the pounding of his heart making it fairly evident what it said.

“Same answer as last time,” Derek said.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Stiles insisted, though his heart rate spiked and he smelled like nerves and happiness and hope. Like he knew Derek actually knew what it said.

Which he did, because he knew Stiles. And if one of them was going to take that leap, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that it would be Stiles.

“Sorry, go ahead, then,” Derek said, grinning into his neck and holding him tightly.

“Hey SourWolf,” Stiles said.

“Hm?”

“Wanna spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Only if you promise never to stop with the notes.”

“I think I can manage,” Stiles said, heart slamming in his chest, though more likely from happiness and excitement now. “The post-it industry is safe as long as you’re with me.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to stock up.” Derek turned his head to kiss at Stiles’ jaw. “I love you.”

“You didn’t actually answer, you know.”

“Find me a post-it, and I’ll write the same thing I did the last time you asked me a question.” Derek bit at his jaw gently and smiled. “Which was yes. But,” he pulled away, giving Stiles a pointed look before he got too excited, “if you try and force me into a dress, no amount of post-its will save you.”

“We both know I’d look _way_  better in a dress.” Stiles grinned and pulled him back down for another kiss.

Derek was looking forward to waking up to post-it notes for a long, long time.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).  
> (If it still exists by the time you read this lol)


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